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Beta-ed by Ryujomaru15
Cover Art: nytemarezero300
How long had he been walking?
He knew he'd traversed the planet's circumference multiple times, but he'd stopped counting after the first hundred. No point in keeping track of such insignificant measurements when his time was never-ending, each moment bleeding into the next. An eternal advancement towards the next horizon.
He didn't need to eat, sleep, or even breathe, and it wasn't as if any terrain could stand in his way, so he just kept moving forward, destined to stride ever onwards without end. Sometimes he wondered if he should go to one of them, the wizard or the witch, and beg them to try and put him out of his misery.
But he couldn't. If he went to either of them, they wouldn't do it. They'd just talk, try to get him on their side, as the Queen had been doing for as long as he could remember. Her insidious words had been burrowing through the firmament of his consciousness like corrupted, mutated worms for as long as he could remember. Were he anyone else, he had no doubt he would have either folded to her overtures or found some manner to end himself long ago. But he had something to forestall her advances with, a single command buried deep in his subconscious that kept him moving onwards, with no ambition but to continue. No matter the tedium, he would live. He had been ordered to live. By who, he could not recall, but the order had to be carried out.
So onwards he went, across the highest peaks and through the deepest sea floors. He witnessed all the remnant of the old world had to offer, every picture of crumbling ruin and every image of defiant resistance. Even when he found the concepts themselves dull after the first few centuries, he normally beheld enough slight differences in each struggle to allow a smile to pretend to grace his face.
It was more difficult when he saw them, the other Creatures of Grimm. The Queen's minions knew better than to come near him, they knew what fate would befall them if they aggravated him. But just their presence amplified the strength of her whispers, turning them from fervent mutterings to incessant howls that rendered his very soul. One might think he'd hate them for that, that he'd hunt them to extinction for some peace of mind.
But there was no point. He could not destroy the Queen, so her Reality Marble would forever remain, and with it the Grimm. There was no point in hunting them. If he saw others in danger from them, sometimes he'd intervene, but there was no way for him to protect them all. Because… well, he couldn't remember exactly why, but he did get the sense that he could have saved them, but he'd chosen something else instead. Something involving a cold woman in a field of snow.
So, he just kept going. He had to keep going. He was the last.
"Hey!"
Huh. Strange. The Queen's whispers were rarely so informal.
"Hey! Hey! Big guy! Big guy! Slow down!"
…That wasn't the Queen.
That was… a person?
He turned around towards the squeaky voice. Rushing through the forest, heading right for him, was a child. A small, slight girl with a mess of dirty chestnut hair atop her head.
She finally arrived next to him, doubled over panting. "You know, for a guy who only walks… you sure do move fast. Must be those long legs of yours."
Were his legs long now? He knew the Queen had changed him long ago, but he seemed to remember being quite small once. Perhaps they'd expanded when he'd ascended.
That was irrelevant. He hadn't spoken to a human being in an eternity. He needed to handle this matter with delicacy.
"Can I help you?"
Brilliant. A perfectly functional response.
The girl smirked. "Actually, you can. You and me, I think we would make a great team."
…
…
What?
"I saw you go through those Grimm a few days ago," the girl informed him. "You didn't even slow down, you just walked through town and they got flattened. Boom! It was awesome! But they're scared of you, hiding away so you can't find them. Which is pretty amazing, by the way, I didn't think the Grimm were scared of anything—"
"What are you talking about?" he interrupted. He could vaguely recall the town she was referencing. From what he could tell it had been a rundown heap for stragglers even before the Grimm had struck. He hadn't paid much mind to it, but he had no desire to watch the starving residents be slaughtered. So, he'd activated his semblance and crushed the creatures as he went through.
The girl smiled. "Me! I can be your eyes and ears, going around and tracking down Grimm so they don't run off before you can get to them. That'll make hunting them so much easier, don't you think?"
"I don't hunt the Grimm."
The girl's face fell. "You don't?"
"No."
"Oh." The girl's smile quickly returned. "Well, that's even better! No point in getting into danger if you don't have to, am I right? Glad you understand that, big guy. Something tells me we're going to be the best of friends. You and me, against the world!"
Against the world?
"Who are you?"
The girl sighed. Her cheery façade disappeared, replaced with an exhausted and deadpan expression. "Alright, fine, you got me. You're one perceptive dude, big guy."
He was? What in the world was going on?
"The truth is… the world's a rough place, alright," the girl explained. "And when you're on your own, it's not exactly easy to survive in it. Well, maybe it is for you, but you're like seven feet tall. It's harder for people like me."
He raised an eyebrow. "You are a child. Where are your parents?"
Children should not have to face the world without support. He remembered that much.
The girl scowled and glanced to the side. "My mom died a long time ago. Dad married some other skank and she convinced him we didn't have enough food for everyone. Next day, we took a trip to the forest and they tried to leave me behind."
"Tried?"
"Grimm. I wasn't exactly happy about being abandoned."
He nodded. That kind of negativity would attract them. The girl needed help, support. But he was not the right being for the job.
"You may travel with me until we reach the next town," he declared. "But I am not someone you want to be around. I am not fit to be a father."
The girl flinched. "Not like I want another." Her head shot up. "Hey! Maybe you can be my big brother instead? That'd be awesome, right?"
He sighed. "Very well." He turned and walked onward. He knew she would follow.
"Great! It's nice to meet you, big bro!" she cheered, rushing up to even their pace. "I'm Gretchen! Gretchen Rainart! What's your name?"
"My name?" He stopped cold. His eyes tried to focus as his mind churned for an answer, coming up with nothing. He had some titles, but those would not do. They were not a name. A title was what you were. A name was who you are, who you chose to be. And he… he hadn't been someone in so long.
"I don't remember my name."
Gretchen's screwed up in confusion. "What? That's ridiculous. How can you not remember your own name?"
"It hasn't been spoken in an eon," he told her. "Besides, I'm not sure if it has any more meaning for me."
Gretchen smirked. "Alright then, we'll just have to give you a name that does, won't we? I'm getting a 'Keith' vibe from you. No, that's a dad name. You're not my dad. Um… Verdant, like the forest, how about that?"
"I do not care."
"Well, then that one's out. You've got to care about your name. It's your name. It's who you are. And in the end, that's all you got in the world."
A genuine smile ghosted across his face for the first time in an eon. The little girl had no idea how right she was. And yet, somehow, he'd managed to lose even that.
Getting a new one from her… might not be so bad.
"Hmm…" Gretchen scratched her chin. Her eyes narrowed as she examined his face. "How about… no, that's dumb. Maybe… no, no that's too sappy. You know what, how about Hazel? You've got hazel eyes, so you won't forget this one."
"Hazel…"
He tried the name out on his tongue. There was a softness to it, like find pine wood. It was… not bad.
And if this girl, Gretchen wanted to give him a name for taking her to the next town, then why not accept it?
Time blurred together for him, but at least for a bit, Hazel Rainart he would be.
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"Oh god, oh god, oh god, I'm gonna…"
"You're not going to hurl, master. You were fine on the ride to Mistral."
"My stomach disagrees, Saber."
"Which is why I'm in spirit form."
Jaune scowled. Trust the Knight of Treachery to hang him out to dry.
Rider's chariot was surprisingly spacious, despite, you know, being a chariot, it was large enough that the entire strike team could fit without too much difficulty. It had taken multiple trips to ferry the entire group from Kuroyuri to Mistral, but with the ones staying behind, the ride to the White Fang HQ was far easier. Not that his stomach seemed to realize that. Despite its managing of the earlier venture, the current situation was almost as bad as the bullhead to Beacon.
Though given the literal lightning they were engulfed in, perhaps he should have been giving his intestines a little more slack.
Rider let out another howl of rumbustious laughter as they blazed through the sky, the huntresses and huntsmen on the vehicle holding tight to the frame. Well, all but one.
"Woohoo!" Yang cheered. "Sure beats a bullhead, eh Blake?"
Her partner shot her a nervous smile, her nails digging into the chariot's wood, clearly trying not to freak out. "It's certainly faster." she remarked.
Yang grinned. "That it is. What do you think of the good old Gordius Wheel, Sun? Sun?"
Sun didn't respond, instead pensively cleaning Ryu Bang and Jingu Bang's barrels with a gun cloth. He only picked his head up when Blake gave him a gentle nudge.
"Huh, did you guys say something?" he asked.
Yang frowned with worry. "Are you okay, dude?"
Jaune could understand Yang's concern. Aside from the Nora and blond brawler herself, Sun was usually the most energetic member of their little gang. He was the life of the party, always excited and ready for action, just thrilled to be included in the commotion. For him to be so subdued, even before a fight… it was strange.
The monkey Faunus flashed the two of them a wide grin. "Yeah, I'm great! Just… you know… nah, it's not important."
Blake gripped Sun on the shoulder. "If something is bothering you, then it is important."
"Keeping our issues bottled up hasn't helped any of us." Jaune reminded him. "Tell us and maybe we can help."
"We're your friends, monkey boy," Yang told him. She gave him a thumbs up. "We're not letting you get all angsty on us. There's enough of that going around as it is."
Sun chuckled. "It's nothing. Well, okay, it's Lionheart and everything, but it really isn't important right now. We can talk about it later. Right now, we've got bigger things to worry about."
Blake frowned. "Sun…"
"He's not wrong," Iskandar noted. "We're here."
The Gordius Wheel dived down from the sky and dipped under a thick jungle canopy. The chariot zipped through the thick emerald foliage like a wrecking ball. If Blake hadn't confirmed it as the only loophole in the base's defenses, Jaune would have thought they'd have been spotted for sure.
Soon enough, the group arrived at a massive mountain range, the cliffs covered in endless jungle. Hidden a ways off in the greenery were a set of cleverly disguised White Fang bullheads, even one that strangely didn't bare their symbol.
Iskandar brought them down behind a cluster of boulders a bit away from the peaks. When they stopped, Blake gave Sun a short, but tight hug and hopped off the chariot. She made her way over to covering of thick reeds and bamboo. When the cat Faunus pushed the screen away, she revealed a wide hole.
"This leads to a tunnel network that can get us in." Blake informed them. "It's too tight for the Gordius Wheel, so Rider should probably stay here if he's going to be the getaway driver."
Yang nodded. "Makes sense. Besides, I can't get close if I don't want to be hit by Lancer's lovey-dovey curse. Unlike Nora, I'm pretty sure I don't have 'true love' with anybody."
"What about Ruby?" Jaune asked.
"I don't think the curse counts sibling love," Yang replied. "If it did, that would it a lot easier to get around."
"True enough." Jaune conceded. "Alright then, if things go south, Saber and I will handle Lancer."
He noticed Blake's hand tighten at his remark. She shook her head a moment later, but he could tell whatever magic was affecting her had its claws in deep. Hopefully, Ozpin would be able to cleanse her faster than he thought he could since he didn't think the group could wait the two weeks he said he'd need. Though at least he could take solace that Nora wasn't affected by the love curse. He was pretty sure she'd do a lot more than close a fist if he mentioned 'handling' Ren.
"Hey, Jaune." He turned to Yang. She looked at him with guilty eyes. "About the wish, don't blame Ruby for the plan. I was the one who pushed her into it."
Jaune sighed in exasperation. Why was she bringing this up now? Oh well. It was nothing to worry about. She was panicked over nothing.
He shot his friend a warm smile. "I don't blame Ruby. And I don't blame you either. You want to save your dad. That is not something to feel guilty about. We all do the best we can."
Yang blinked in shock. A moment later, a grin blossomed across her face. "Thanks. And if it means anything, I wish there was a way to save your mom and Pyrrha."
Jaune sighed. "So do I. But… the dead are dead. They stay with us, we learn from them, grow stronger defending what they fought for. But they're gone. There's no way to bring them back without defiling what they fought for."
Yang squeezed his shoulder comfortingly. "They'd be proud of you."
"They'd at least be slightly less disappointed." Jaune joked. He and Yang fist bumped. "Just so you know, I'm not backing down. I'm going to support Mordred getting her wish."
"You're supporting your family. I wouldn't have it any other way," Yang smirked. "Besides, I don't think the big guy would ever forgive me if he didn't get a fight with your big bro."
"Indeed!" Iskandar shouted. He slapped Jaune on the back, unintentionally driving the air from his lungs. "If I cannot have the Knight of Treachery in my army, then I shall not be satisfied until we face each other in glorious combat! And you, second son of the King of Knights, when this war is over and I begin my campaign across this brilliant new world, I sincerely hope you will join my ranks! You would be welcomed in the Hetairoi."
Jaune couldn't help but chuckle at that. "Wow. From sneaking into Beacon to being invited into the army of a legendary hero."
"The difference two years can make." Yang joked.
"So…" Iskandar grinned. "Will you join me?"
Jaune scratched the back of his head. "Well—"
"You're not joining him."
'What? Mordred, what are you—'
"A knight does not join some buffoon's gang."
'Buffoon?'
"You are not joining and that's final!"
Jaune rubbed his forehead at the screech. "Sorry, Rider. Saber is against the idea."
"Ah, unfortunate." Iskandar sighed. "Still, I hope you reconsider after the war."
"Guys." Blake hissed. She gestured to the tunnel. "Are we doing this or what?"
Jaune cringed. "Sorry."
This was no time to dilly dally. Every moment they delayed was a moment Salem's forces got closer. If they were able to engage the White Fang in negotiations, it was unlikely to be a swift process, given neither of them really trusted each other. They need to move fast if there was going to be any time to evacuate.
They had their work cut out for them. Based on Blake's descriptions, Adam Taurus didn't seem like the most diplomatic of fellows.
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"I spy with my little eye something… red."
"The wall, master."
Adam sighed as he laid down across a crimson quilted bed. "How do you always know?"
"I follow your eyes to see where you're looking when you speak, my lord."
"Of course you do."
He understood Sienna wasn't particularly happy with him taking so much time to get to the base but did she have to push him off to a waiting room? For days? He'd hoped the months since they last spoke would have given her time to cool off from the attack on Beacon. He should have known better. Time did not sate the tiger's fury.
When he'd arrived, he had been sequestered in guest quarters with guards at his door. The room was nice enough to allow the illusion of hospitality, but with Ilia separated from him, it was clear the area was meant as a cell to keep him from running off before Sienna finally got her explanation. Just as making him wait was a show of dominance, meant to demonstrate to both him and the rest of the White Fang who was really in command.
Adam wondered if Sienna realized just how futile her measures were. Putting aside the fact that Lancer accompanied him in spirit form even now, and could probably slaughter the entire base if he gave the word, the moment he'd entered the room his guards had declared that they would gladly escort him anywhere he needed to go. Like the barracks, for instance, to rouse the men.
Once again, the invitation was clear. The troops were with him. If he gave the word, he would be High Leader.
He wasn't going to deny that it was tempting. If he commanded the entirety of the White Fang, not just his Vale regiment, then he could make use of the organization's vast information network to seek out the other masters of the war, maybe even track down the Branwen Tribe's new hiding place. He'd sure like to pay Raven a visit and finish what they'd started in Oniyuri.
But in some ways, it was the thought of his old mentor that stayed his hand. She'd taught him a great deal: how to be strong, how that strength was the only way to survive in an unforgiving world. Her beatings and her instruction had been more than he could have asked for before he met her. But even then, he noted something peculiar.
For all her talk of strength, of power, and even her possession of such via Lancelot, Raven rarely did anything with it. Sure, she led raids, had Vernal deliver her commands, but at the end of the day, the Branwen Tribe were just bandits, ravaging the countryside… for what? Survival? Why should the strong merely survive? Why should they not change the world for the betterment of those who could not?
Sienna had helped him understand that when he'd returned. Strength was a tool, to be used for the protection of those too battered and oppressed to claim it for themselves. He'd done more good in his first month of raids on SDC operations than Raven had probably done in her entire career as a bandit. Because you couldn't leave the fight just because you decided it wasn't for you. You couldn't leave your allies behind as she'd done at their last encounter. There were causes bigger than one's self, bigger than mere survival.
Diarmuid had helped him settle that last point. He had no illusions about his less than stellar initial treatment of his Servant. He'd berated him, insulted him, belittled him at every turn without even the scantest sign of kindness. All because he was a human, which while certainly not a point in his favor, was not something he could control. Indeed, the knight was a credit to his race, just as a hero should be. He swore to serve Adam, to see that his dream was fulfilled by the grail, and no matter how much he'd had to suffer for that devotion, he had never wavered in his commitment. It was admirable.
That was what it meant to truly to serve a cause, either something as personal as a lord, or as grand as the dream of Faunus equality. In the end, the individual didn't matter as long as the vision flourished.
And so, no matter how alluring it might have been, he could not usurp Sienna.
While he was certainly a competent leader, and far more popular and charismatic among the grunts of the White Fang, there were no illusions in his mind that his mentor was the superior administrator. She had managed an organization spanning the entirety of Remnant for years, most of which was spent near the top of the kingdoms' most wanted list, and had allowed it to not only survive but flourish. Even now, the greatest threat to her regime was not outside law enforcement, but the fact that the army she had created was growing impatient with her wise, meticulous strategy.
Besides, if he did become High Leader, that came with its own set of risks, and not just for him. If he was killed in the Grail War, and with opponents like Kirei and Raven that was a distinct possibility, then the White Fang would be left aimless upon his demise, like a King Taijitu that had lost both its heads. The greatest force for Faunus liberation on the planet would be crippled. As he was now, a cell commander, his death would still be a heavy blow, but manageable for the great organization. His dream would live on if he fell, or at least the seeking of it.
For now though, he could only wait, playing 'I Spy' with his invisible Servant.
He had a feeling such a statement sounded even more ridiculous than he thought it did.
Still, it was more comforting than he thought it would be to do it. The last person he'd played such the simple, childish game with had been Blake, back in the early days of Sienna's reign. It'd been… nice to let his guard down and just be the kids they actually were instead of the revolutionaries they dreamed of being. The world and the cruel humans in it had forced him to grow up faster than he should have, taking lives before he was even old enough to attend most kingdoms' combat schools in defense of others who would suffer the same abuse he himself had before he met the Belladonnas.
How ironic then that one of the supposed pinnacles of those same humans would prove to be one of the first people to bring his guard down after his beloved abandoned him. Diarmuid hadn't done anything special, no grand displays of loyalty, nor provided him with a magnificent victory. But he had been good, and kind, and loyal, even when Adam hadn't been the same to him. He was a knight, faithful to the end despite his curse, someone that Adam trusted would truly see his dream through to the end.
With his help, it really did look like he could get everything he wanted.
"Okay, how about you take a turn," Adam suggested. "I can't exactly track your eyes as you are—"
The double doors to the room cracked open. Ilia marched in, a troop of lance-wielding grunts behind her.
"She's called for us." Ilia informed him. "We're allowed to keep our weapons as a sign of trust, but no funny stuff."
Adam shrugged. "Not like we were going to try anything."
Ilia nodded. Her eyes shifted around the room, darting back and forth between him and the masked guards. "Is… is he…"
"The Knight of Fianna is with us." Adam smiled. "He sends his regards and his apologies, as usual."
He could already hear Lancer professing his sincerest apologies for his curse even as Ilia blushed.
Adam rose to his feet. He reached to his bedside table for his mask, but his hand paused just before he could grab the plaster construct.
He'd gotten the idea of the Grimm masks from Raven, who'd constantly worn one when she was on raids or even when she just wanted to appear intimidating. He'd never found out the exact reason, but when he'd introduced the practice to the Fang, it had been steeped in the idea of monstrousness. If humanity feared the Creatures of Grimm, and through that fear, respected them, then the Faunus would take on their faces and take their respect that way.
But acting as a monster… what it had led him to consider…
Perhaps… perhaps it was best to leave the mask behind. Maybe he could see how well Adam Taurus did as a man.
…
But hadn't he only gotten this far by being a monster?
…
Could a monster get everything he wanted?
…
What could it hurt? He'd only be leaving it off for a meeting.
He retracted his arm back to himself and nodded to his guards, his golden eyes determined and unobscured. "Let's go."
The troops filed in around Adam and Ilia, and Lancer unknowingly, and escorted them to the High Leader's throne room.
As they went, however, Adam caught a whisper between the two at the rear of the column.
"Who the heck is the Knight of Fianna? Some secret special ops guy?"
"Maybe? Heck, maybe that human that showed up a few days ago actually does know them."
Adam frowned. What human had arrived at headquarters? How hadn't they been killed or driven off? And why did they claim to know him?
His grip tightened on his sword. The only human he could think of was Kirei. He hadn't seen the priest since the Fall of Beacon. But why would he come here? It wasn't like Gilgamesh needed the White Fang's help.
Unless it was someone else. But if so, who?
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Sun breathed tightly as the group neared where Blake said Sienna Khan would be. The secrets caverns had been slow going, but they'd managed to make it through the base without being seen. Well, being seen by anyone Mordred hadn't been able to jet over to and knock out with a swift strike to the back of the head. Blake had been a bit concerned by that, it would be harder to convince the White Fang to ally with them if they'd just killed their men, but Mordred had assured them that she had measured her strength.
It was incredibly impressive. For all he and Mordred had traded barbs over her calling him 'monkey', he couldn't deny the knight was an incredible warrior. And even as abrasive as she was, the Servant had a mission, a goal she would put everything towards. Though she was willing to take the time to help people like with Ren and the Nuckelavee (which was honestly when Sun really started to respect her), she still making her way towards the destiny she'd decided on.
For a long time, Sun hadn't had that. He'd grown up on the streets of Vacuo, a street rat among street rats. It was said that Vacuo didn't have a lot of racism, if you were tough enough to survive in the desert then you'd earned your place after all. And while that wasn't necessarily untrue, when you were at the bottom of the barrel, you looked for any way to get a leg up on someone else, which had led to him being ostracized by the human orphans, alone and desperate for meals. The Faunus kids had been too busy trying to scrap by food themselves to help him. So he'd done what he'd had to. He'd pickpocketed; street brawled and generally did all he could to survive. Until one day he'd tried to rob one particular man.
Headmaster Lionheart.
Some upcoming meeting with the headmistress of Shade had distracted the professor, so Sun had actually succeeded in getting the man's wallet. He just didn't get very far before the huntsman tracked him down and took it back. But Lionheart had apparently been impressed by his efforts and sympathized with his plight. He'd brought him along to Shade and pulled some strings to get him into a combat school. Said he was a good kid, that he had the chance to do some good in the world. To be a huntsman and save people.
At the time, he'd just seen it as a way to get three square meals a day. What did he care about saving people when he could finally go to sleep with a full belly.
Except, since his stomach was full, he stopped desperately searching out for scraps. And he saw the others that looked for them. The thin, wiry street kids that had previously shoved him aside to get as big a cut of the garbage as they could. Now that he could see straight, he saw that they were fighting to scrape by just as he had been. After that, food had started 'disappearing' from the school's storehouse and mysteriously reappearring on the streets.
When the time came to decide which huntsman academy he would apply to, he hadn't even hesitated to pick Haven. Not only would it have the bonus of getting him out of Vacuo, it would allow him to study under the man who'd inspired him in the first place, who'd shown him that he could be more and given him the chance to see it for himself. Lionheart had shown him what it meant to be a huntsman.
And Lionheart was a traitor. His idol had sold out all of Remnant.
Where the hell did that leave him?
He glanced over at Blake. The cat huntress was efficiently leading Jaune through the black tunnels, the other blonde's human eyes not as useful in the dark as his faunus friends. She was always doing that. Even when she stumbled, even when she didn't know what road to take, she knew where she was going. She knew the world she wanted to make, a better one. And she would stop at nothing to achieve that, for the good of all. That determination was one of the things that he loved most about her, that inspired him. A dark angel that lit his way through the night.
Sun smiled.
It didn't matter that Lionheart hadn't lived up to his expectations in the end. No matter what, he'd always have the image of the kindly old huntsman who gave a filthy street rat a chance. And it was that image that he would hold himself to. A huntsman's duty was to protect and save whoever they could, whenever they could. He couldn't fight titans or obliterate armies like the Servants could, but he could at least do what he could. Help who he could. He wouldn't be able to choose when that was, or who that was, but he had to try.
He would do his duty. To his job, and his friends.
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'Are we finally there yet?' Mordred moaned.
They'd been sneaking through the tunnels for what felt like ages. She knew they needed to be stealthy, but it just wasn't her style to be so furtive. A knight did not slink in the shadows like a common thief!
Plus, she had to keep her idiot master from agreeing to join Rider's army like some hoodlum. That redheaded bastard had no right trying to use his Charisma Skill on a son of King Arthur.
Besides, it distracted her from asking him how he'd feel when she made her new wish. If he would be okay if she… stuck around after the war.
Why was she even worrying about that? Both he and the rest of the Arcs had already given her their invitations.
But what if they were meant more as gestures than actually wanting her…
Then screw them! She'd do what she wanted!
Besides, she had enough to be worried about in the present without working about the future. She still had to win the war, and though she had no doubt she was strong enough to do so, that didn't mean it would be easy. She could already sense Lancer's presence within the White Fang compound. Faint, clearly trying to remain hidden, but there. But while the Irishman would be an interesting opponent, he wasn't what concerned the Knight of Treachery.
There was another power in the mountain. Dark, twisted, and mighty, seeping through the cracks of stone like a puissant mud. It was so marred in riving black prana, Mordred couldn't tell if it was emanated from a single source or multiple. But no matter if it was one or more, she knew what it was.
Alters. Maybe Cú Chulainn, maybe someone else, but there was no doubt that it a Servant corrupted by Salem's grip.
Mordred's grip twitched, her sword itching to fly to her hand. Jaune was her master, and she'd traveled with Blake and Sun enough to call them comrades. Whatever awaited them, she would protect them, even if it meant swallowing her pride and calling Rider for backup.
The group stopped before a stone grate, streaks of soft light dripping into the tunnel.
"We're here." Blake declared. "Sienna's throne room is right through here."
"Looks like it's occupied," Sun noted.
Mordred peered through the cracks and observed the throne room. The roof was extremely high up, at least three times the height of the Arcs' motel. The brown stone of the mountain was supported by half a dozen metal pillars. A majestic crimson carpet was laid out across the floor, leading to a dais raised several inches off the ground. On it was a throne flanked by four guards in Grimm masks with long spears. In the chair sat a female tiger Faunus draped in robes of red and black.
"I see you've finally arrived, Adam." the woman growled. "Is your explanation ready to be seen, or have you spent the last few months tidying your affairs?"
Before the tiger Faunus, on the carpet in front of her throne, knelt the bull and chameleon Faunus from Oniyuri, Adam and Ilia, their heads bowed in submission. Mordred could sense Lancer standing beside them in spirit form.
"Why isn't Adam wearing his mask?" Sun inquired.
"I don't know," Blake revealed. "Something's off."
"High Leader Khan," Adam spoke reverently. "I apologize for my tardiness. As you know, the trek from Vale is not a simple one."
"And yet, your men arrived weeks before you did." the tiger Faunus, who Mordred guessed was the Sienna Khan that Blake had mentioned, mocked. "Did you dawdle out of fear, or insubordination? The White Fang employs violence when violence is necessary, to show the humans that they cannot treat us as lesser beings and get away with it. But attacking the Huntsman Academies crosses a line."
"I agree." Adam declared. "Attacking Beacon only leaves all of us vulnerable to the Grimm, and as such was never part of my plan. However, the event did provide an opportunity-"
"Oh, so you accidentally sacked the school." Sienna interrupted dryly. "Should I have you punished for incompetence instead of stupidity then? Or treason, since you seemed to have allied with a group of humans for this asinine scheme."
"That is a gross over simplific—how do you know about the humans?" Adam inquired, his golden eyes wide with confusion.
Sienna's scowl deepened. "Two of them arrived a few days ago, looking for you. I would have had them killed on sight just for knowing our location, but they mentioned they were allies of yours, not to mention they carried a very interesting bargaining chip."
"What? Who?" Adam demanded hotly, panic in his voice.
Mordred sensed the dark power of the Alter near the chamber.
The double doors of the throne room slammed open. A huge, hulking man in a forest green jacket walked into the chamber.
"That would be me." the man declared. "Hazel Rainart. I believe you worked with my associate, Cinder Fall, before her passing. Our mutual master wishes to continue the partnership she established."
Adam rose to his feet and growled. "Partnership? Your associate slaughtered half my men and held the rest of their lives over my head unless I worked with her!"
Hazel sighed. "My apologies. Diplomatic relations were never Cinder's specialty. But I can assure you, I am not here to cause trouble."
"You've already failed in that regard." Sienna Khan snarled, her fury at Adam now turned fully on the newcomer. Her guards aimed their spears at the brute. "I told you to wait on your ship until I sent for you."
"Again, my apologies madam," Hazel replied calmly. "I simply overheard that Mr. Taurus here had returned and felt it best to see you both at once."
"Get out." Adam threatened. Ilia stood behind him as he drew his katana. "The longer you stay here, the less safe you will be."
Hazel glanced over the terrorists present. His gaze lingered a bit next to Adam, almost as if he could see the currently non-material Lancer, but in the end, he just raised an eyebrow.
"I'll take those chances." he declared. He held up his hands placatingly. "You don't like me. You have no reason to like me. But you don't have to like me to get what you want. My mistress holds more power than anyone else on Remnant. And if the White Fang agrees to work with us, we can promise it will be a mutually beneficial arrangement. As both a token of apology for Cinder's mishandling of our first contact and as a gift of goodwill, please accept this. Saber Alter."
A man with white hair and a large mustache was thrown onto the floor of the chamber, his tattered suit and dress shirt ripped and torn until there was barely anything left. His hands were cuffed in front of him.
Adam and Ilia's eyes widened. Sienna's narrowed.
"Jacques Schnee." the tiger Faunus growled.
The white-haired man struggled to his feet. He whirled on the Faunus and snarled. "Sienna. I should have known you and your animals would work with that devil."
They probably spoke a bit more, but Mordred didn't hear them. Why would she have, when the one who'd thrown the white-haired man entered the room?
"Is that… who I think it is?" Blake muttered in horror.
It was wrong. It was all wrong. Armor that should have been beautiful, blue, and silver was stained black and merciless. Eyes that should have shown the purest emerald were hidden by a harrowing mask of red and black. An aura that should have shined with nobility unsurpassed by even God himself, was instead primal, ferocious, and filled to the brim with pure, unrestrained menace, a cloud of dark prana swirling about the warrior.
This… this… this could not be him. It could not be.
"No." Jaune whispered, terrified. "No, no, no, no, no, no. Please, no."
But it was. Despite the darkness, despite the black power seeping off the female knight in ways, Mordred could never mistake that figure. The blond hair was whiter and the skin was a bit paler but everything else was there. The stern noble chin, the divine royal cheeks, the effortless pose of grace that yet seemed to hide vast untapped reserves of will and wrath. It was unmistakable.
This was the King of Knights.
Lancer materialized next to his master as soon as Arturia entered the room, his spears ready for battle. A confused scowl crossed his face. He positioned himself between his master and the other Servant.
"What in the…" Sienna sputtered. "Adam! Explain this!"
"Lancer?" Adam exclaimed, ignoring his leader. "What are you doing?"
"Master, please get back." the Knight of Fianna requested. "This woman… she is a Servant, but something is wrong."
"Not wrong, Diarmuid." Saber Alter replied flatly. "Merely altered to better serve my new master." She tilted her chin at the spearman. "I must say, it is a welcome surprise to see you again, Knight of the Love Spot."
Lancer feverishly scanned the black warrior before him, his grip on his spears tightening. "King of Knights? Is that really you?"
"It is." the Alter Servant nodded. "I apologize for how our last encounter ended. I swear to you, I had no knowledge of what my master was planning."
"That is… comforting." Lancer gulped.
Mordred remembered the grievances Diarmuid had spoken of back at Oniyuri. She doubted they would have been soothed by a simple apology, but when the King of Knights appeared before one blackened, such concerns tended to fall to the wayside.
Adam looked at Hazel. "What do you want?"
The hulking man glanced at Diarmuid, his eyes narrowing in faint recognition before a shake of his head sent his gaze back to the bull Faunus.
"My apologies. It seems matters have changed." Hazel informed them. "My Queen is more than willing to ally with the White Fang in order to work towards our mutual goals, but the Holy Grail War is another matter. All Servants are to be slain on sight."
Adam raised his sword. "Of course. How sensible."
"There is no need for you to die." Hazel cautioned. "Simply relinquish your Servant to us, and both he and us will be gone from this place without violence."
"So, you can kill him?" Ilia shouted.
"If the Queen wishes, yes," Hazel admitted. "But more than likely, she will instead put him through the blackening like Saber Alter here."
"Do not worry, Lancer. If you do not wish to become as I am, you will not be forced to suffer the same disgraceful fate as before." Saber Alter comforted, though with a cold, matter of fact tone. "We will have our duel. I promise."
Lancer's eyes widened. He looked upon Arturia with aghast horror. He glanced back to his master, terror running through his eyes.
Adam met his gaze. The bull Faunus gave him a cocky smirk.
He turned back to the interlopers. "How about this? Lancer duels you now, we kill you and get one step closer to the grail and the salvation of all Faunus. And your Queen gets nothing."
Lancer smiled gratefully at his master. He raised his spear to Saber Alter. "You heard my master. Shall we finish what we started, King of Knights?"
The swordswoman smirked. A burst of black prana erupted in her hand. A familiar majestic sword emerged from the storm, but instead of wonderous gold, blue, and silver, it shone an impossible black and crimson, the once holiest of sword now baying for blood like a rabid hound.
Saber Alter raised her black Excalibur. "Come, Knight of Fianna."
"Are you sure you wish to do this?" Hazel asked once more. "If you fight, I cannot guarantee your safety."
"Worry for your own safety, human." Sienna Khan snarled. She rose to her feet, claws out and ready. "You stand in our sanctuary. Soon, it will be your tomb."
Hazel sighed. "No. No, it will not. King of Knights, destroy them."
That was too much. She could be patient no longer.
She materialized immediately, her sword in her hand.
"Saber, wait!" Sun shouted.
A surge of power obliterated the wall in front of them, sending a cloud of dust in front of the group.
Mordred burst through the fog decked in full armor and wreathed in crimson lightning. All the eyes in the throne room turned to her, but she only cared for one figure.
"Mordred?!" Saber Alter exclaimed.
The Knight of Treachery roared. She blasted forward on the peak of a Prana Burst and raised her sword.
This was her father. This couldn't be her father. This was a perversion. This was a dark forgery, crafted by Salem's black machinations.
This pale imitation was an insult to the King of Knights and she would not let it stand!
Clarent's blade of tempestuous crimson struck the black guard of the false Excalibur and the throne room erupted into chaos.
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